


A Tale of Two Idiots

by possum_queen, Sililoquize



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Aztec Religion, Inca mythology - Fandom
Genre: Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Crass Humor, F/M, Gen, I write one she writes one chapter, M/M, Multi, No Smut, POV Alternating, Self-Indulgent, Time Travel, Visually Impaired Character, characters are based off of the authors, queer disasters, spicy words, this is just an excuse to pretend the authors are pretty and interesting, will go through many types of mythology, world mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possum_queen/pseuds/possum_queen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sililoquize/pseuds/Sililoquize
Summary: A self indulgent fic with the main characters based off the writers. Each of us will alternate chapters. Nymph Isa and sylph Mara are both tasked with assassinating Tantalus, the man stupid enough fuck with the gods. When it turns out they are dumb enough to fail at killing a simple mortal, they will have to chase him through time and space with help from fellow mythological deities. They may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but now they are joined at the hip (and braincell) as they cause a little mass destruction in order to kill one man throughout world mythology.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, original female character/original enby character





	1. An Introduction into the Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> Authors are REAL rusty, be warned. Not looking for incredibly accurate depictions of mythology in the name of humor and also to avoid homophobia, sexism, and racism (pretending they're not real). Slight ableism. This fic will contain spicy words, euphemisms, and jokes in bad taste, but no smut because we are writing ourselves as characters and that would be super weird. Lots of violence, but not very graphic. Regardless, I tagged graphic depictions just in case. Aside from the first two chapters, will be a single pov chapter once a week on Fridays. Liable to take breaks as school starts back up in August. Enjoy! Or suffer, I guess. We'll be writing anyway.

Chapter One

Isa

It was a good thing Gaea didn’t value subtlety. Mother Earth preferred her messages direct and devastating, and that suited Isa perfectly. She had never been a particularly graceful or stealthy soldier. If she was to kill an enemy, she wanted them to hear, vividly, the grating of her cane tip as she approached them. She wanted them to see her form starkly. She wanted them to know, with each passing second, they were at her mercy.

And Gaea agreed. She wanted her enemies to know her power could come from anywhere and anyone, from a brutish warrior to a small girl with shaking eyes, much the way the innocent beauty of her earth could reverse to ruthlessness in moments.

Giles pushed Isa - literally - out of her thoughts, the blunt wood training sword almost certainly leaving a bruise on her shoulder.

“You’re getting angsty again,” the satyr groaned, stomping his hoof. “I get you’re trying to get in the ‘kill the traitor’ zone or whatever, but you’re super annoying when you’re trying this hard to convince yourself of your own badassery.” Isa squawked in mock outrage, feeling with the tip of her cane until it connected harshly with Giles’ ankles.

“I’m so not doing that, asshole,” she growled as he chuckled, both fully aware she was lying.

“I’m just thinking about the fucking gown I have to wear for this shit. I swear corsets were sent up from the Underworld just to torture me.”

Giles snorted. “You are such a liar. I saw you running your hands all over that gown like you were searching it for loose daggers. You love it. And I know you’re excited for the new cane.”

“Well, yeah,” Isa huffed, “Obviously. It has two dagger compartments and an extra sensitive tip with just the right amount of flexibility…” She trailed off when she realized Giles was laughing at her again. “Fuck off, goat man,” she growled, landing another blow to his hooves. Isa drew her blurred vision to scan the sun’s position above them. “The dinner will start in a couple of hours. I need to get into my murder dress. Can you help with the makeup?”

“Obviously,” Giles replied.

Isa followed his blurred form, cane limp in her hand as they walked the swept dirt paths of the camp. She knew the camp like a tree knew its branches, and didn’t need the cane to guide her.

The camp was humble as far as Gaea was concerned, but beautiful. Massive trees stretched above them, their bases wider than the wingspan of ten men, emerald canopies of leaves as long as Isa’s body shifting in the wind. Gaea had specially created the trees to be hollowed so creatures could live within them, and the nymphs had carved levels of rooms into each one. Gaea was primarily concerned with combat, but many of her beings were drawn to artistry, evidenced by the intricate furnishings and designs of the dwellings.

Isa and Giles quickly scaled the stairs spiraling the outside of a tree near the center of the camp to the small level they shared. Giles wasted no time plastering her face with cosmetics he’d made himself. Isa was grateful she’d been chosen as a fighter - the title fit her perfectly. But if Gaea hadn’t determined Giles a warrior, he would have been a fantastic artist. Giles admired his creation and quickly moved on to Isa’s hair, detangling it from the knotted, dirty braid she shoved it into for each training session. He laced delicate flowers and vines through intricate patterning, using an ungodly amount of pins to hold everything in place.

Finally, they moved on to the dress. It was customary at formal events for creatures from each god’s realm to signify their allegiance. Isa’s dress screamed that she came from Gaea. It was a soft moss green covered in delicate, jewel-threaded embroidery of branches and leaves. The dress was gauzy and light, billowy around the cinched waist. It was the most beautiful thing Isa had ever worn, though she knew it would be tattered and stained blood-red by the end of the night.

Isa slipped her favorite daggers in all of the easy-to-reach places - hair, bosom, strapped to her thigh - and carefully secured another few to compartments inside her cane. Satisfied, she turned to Giles.

“Well?” He smirked. “Are you sure you have enough knives? There’s so much weaponry strapped to you you’re going to clank together as you walk.”

“Shut up assgoat. I like to be prepared. What idiot goes anywhere without at least a few daggers? I’ll tell you who. People who get killed by the person they’re trying to assassinate.”

Giles chuckled. “You look good and if you hadn’t opened your mouth, I wouldn’t even assume you’re a trained killer. You’ll do great.” Isa smiled back, but it was shallower this time. It was far from her first mission, but this was certainly the most high-profile one she’d handled alone. It was a hefty task - murder Tantalus gruesomely. Then fight her way out - only excluding killing Gaea’s own grandchildren in attendance. Gaea wanted a trail of carnage. Isa didn’t overestimate her worth to the god. If things went wrong, even if they wanted to, no one would come for her. Gaea kept the locations of their missions discrete for exactly that reason - she couldn’t have emotional soldiers looking to save their buddies every murder. Isa would have to be a total idiot not to be at least a little nervous.

And she was only mostly an idiot.

But she also didn’t want Giles to worry. He was her closest friend, and he knew the risk to her just as acutely. She swallowed the fear buzzing in her throat.

“I better. Only been prepping for this since I was five.”

He wasn’t fooled. “I promise. You’ll be fine. Tap into your angry angst and kick their asses. Just pretend they’re holding me hostage and you must save this beautiful damsel in distress.”

Giles swooned, falling dramatically onto her bedding. He jumped up with a sharp hiss, cradling a shallowly cut palm.

“Why the fuck do you have so many knives in your bed?”

Just as she was about to snap back at him, she heard the clamor of hooves beneath them. Her carriage was here. Isa grabbed her cane and gave Giles a fast hug. “Sorry about that. When I get back you can gouge my hand open if you want.”

Isa didn’t want the goodbye to be any more emotional than it had to be - it was a widely known fact that she preferred to take her feelings out in training and nowhere else, something Giles repeatedly forced her to visit the camp wise man about, so she quickly clambered down to the carriage. Isa returned to her train of angsty thoughts as the door snapped closed and her driver took them away. She could do this. She had to. If anyone got in her way… well, they’d regret it for the rest of their existence.

* * *

Mara

Mara fluffed the cloud under her head as the alarm blared in her ears. She smacked it, willing it to shut up so she could return to her blissfully exciting dream. She heard a low roll of thunder, a sign that Ouranos was reminding her that she would get some excitement in real life tonight.

_Ugh. Right. Real work._

If only she knew when to shut her damn mouth. Ouranus’s little princess Aphrodite just knew how to push her buttons perfectly. The constant stream of snark in her head always seemed to flow out of her mouth at the worst times. Namely, around her boss, the almighty primordial sky god, and his prissy little goddess daughter. When Mara was young, it happened far more often, up until Ouranos decided to place her under the care of Nyx, where her humor and nocturnal tendencies would be more appreciated.

Too bad Aphrodite had come in the early morning, looking fresh as a motherfucking daisy after Mara had just finished her dusk to dawn shift. All Mara had wanted to do was put on her eye mask, fluff up her clouds, and go the fuck to sleep. But when she arrived at her cozy cloud home, Bitchrodite and her sycophants were there “beautifying” it. Of course Mara knew that her room was a complete mess, but that did not give Olympus’s bitchiest goddess the right to fuck up _her_ stuff at EIGHT IN THE GODSDAMN MORNING!

The next thing Mara knew, she was cowering behind Nyx as Ouranos screamed his head off at her, Aphrodite pouting in the corner. But Nyx, the mysterious primordial being she was (so much so that even Ouranos feared her), was able to calm him down with an expression of annoyance on her face. Unfortunately, a simple aurai like Mara was not above punishment, as Aphrodite screeched. And so, she was condemned to do Ouranos’s dirty work: kill the bastard that _dared_ mess with his poor grandbabies. Mara was about to point out that his poor grandbabies were the gods of Olympus and were more than capable of killing a little mortal themselves when Nyx accepted his conditions. She gave Mara her signature unreadable expression, along with a vibe that read _shut the fuck up and agree._

And so, here she was, waking up at 4 pm (three hours before normal) to get ready to go to an exquisite Olympian party, just to assassinate someone. If her dress got ruined, she would have a fit petty enough to rival Bitchrodite herself. It was stunning, the color of the sky at dusk, with turquoise, royal blue, navy, and intricate sparkling details that rivaled the stars themselves. It fell delicately off her shoulders, cinched at the waist, and flowed behind her in a billowing train, leaving her legs free, aside from a short, tight skirt for modesty’s sake (also embroidered and bejeweled, of course). Mara sighed in adoration as she slipped it on, changing out of her pajama pants that were going on three days straight.

It was days like these, when she delighted in a bit of girlish dress up, that Mara almost wished she had friends. She had Nyx, of course, but Nyx happened to be about 12 eons her elder and could kill her with the blink of an eye. Shaking the thought away, Mara began the weaving and coiffing of her hair in a rather out of practice fashion.

Speak of the devil, Nyx waved away the “door” of cloud and entered wordlessly, shooing Mara’s hands away and taking over so that she could start on the make-up.

“How are you going to do it?” Nyx asked, the amusement that never seemed to leave her voice soothing Mara an embarrassing amount. “Any theatrics? A party fit for the gods deserves a murder fit for them too, I suppose.”

“Not tonight. I refuse to get blood on this dress.” They snickered at that, though Mara stopped on a serious note. It was just too pretty to ruin. “Crossbow from the balcony. Knives and swords are ruled out with the mess, and hand to hand combat isn’t exactly my strength. Besides,” she winked at Nyx’s face in the mirror, “I am a deadshot.” It was a pet name the goddess had given her when she first began the Night Shift, and though Nyx rarely used it, it remained a special memento between them.

Nyx purred in agreement as she finished weaving her hair into braids and ribbons and tendrils. She was a goddess of few words, which worked out well, as Mara often failed to shut the fuck up. It was comforting, like the hands of a mother caressing her daughter. Aurai did not have mothers, they were born of a mortal’s first breath, but Nyx was the closest she had to one. The thought made her laugh a bit, as Nyx would be the most murderous mother ever, in addition to being a slightly off-her-rocker primordial being. Once Nyx had finished her hair and Mara did her makeup, she went to her dresser, stuffed to the brim with various weapons that she would learn when she got around to it. Nyx always said she would procrastinate her own death, if an aurai could die. Mara grabbed the crossbow, her favorite for this type of ordeal, and strapped it into her bustle so that it was hidden by the many layers of fabric, as well as a collapsible javelin strapped to the back of her thigh. She almost considered bringing her double bladed spear, but that would be harder to hide.

Her crotch could only hold so many weapons.

“Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Remember, do not fuck this up. Aphrodite will sick her army of simps on you or worse- go running to daddy,” Nyx warned

“I’ll be fine,” Mara said, partly to convince herself. “It should be simple, an in and out murder”

“Unfortunately, dearie, I fear it might not be.” Mara tried not to let her blood run cold as Styx. Nyx was a cryptic being. Her remark could mean nothing. Already, she was back to humming and preening at the vanity. It’ll be fine. In and out murder.

With one last look in the mirror and pushing up of her boobs, she smiled at Nyx and stepped off her cloud. The wind caught her as it always did, and she was off to Sipylus.


	2. Assassination! at the Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovely leading ladies meet and cause general chaos, a recurring theme for them, each of them racing to kill Tantalus (our villain that we somewhat randomly chose from myths I remembered from Percy Jackson).

By the time the sun had sunk low below the horizon, Isa stepped into Tantalus’ ballroom. Because of her constantly shaking eyes, she couldn’t physically roll them, but she wanted to. Even with her limited vision, the amount of brassy gold was immediately evident. Someone was way too much of a fan of gilded shit. 

The scraping sound of her cane’s trail across the marble floor echoed up the arched ceiling, and tinkling glasses and murmured conversation rippled through the room. Isa quickly picked up on the voices of Gaea’s grandchildren on the level above her, and made a mental note to horrifically assassinate her victim in a different section of the hall. 

She carefully trailed the room. With less than fantastic sight, it was even more important to have a flawless mental layout of the space. Tantalus’s ballroom was massive - it could easily fit ten of the dwellings the dryads and satyrs lived in at Isa’s camp. The room was coated in echoing marble and brilliant gilding. Isa was walking on the ground level of the hall with all the lowly, non-gods or royals. It was still lucious and obnoxiously beautiful, but she guessed it was nothing compared to the second story balcony that stretched the length of the room, accessed by one grand, spiraling white marble staircase Isa was positive she would tumble down dramatically if she tried to climb - fucking rich people and their inability to create evenly spaced stairs with any contrast - and a much more manageable stone staircase tucked in the corner of the room for servants. That was the one she’d scale to reach Tantalus. 

Isa took a deep breath. Nerves circled her stomach. The wise man had told her when she felt anxious, she should tell herself positive things about herself.

Ok. She was a trained killer. She was a skilled soldier. She was a badass. She was the pride of Gaea - 

_ Smack.  _

“Fucking shit fucknuts!” Isa growled, her head aching. 

She raised her gaze to the object in front of her. Wow. A giant fucking stone pillar. She wished she could blame that on her vision, but she definitely had enough to see it. This was just stupidity. What a competent assassin. 

“You good?” 

Isa’s head snapped up from where she was resting it against the pillar in shame. Fuck. Of course someone saw her. She could never just murder in a cool way. 

“Yep. Just still a blind dumbass,” Isa responded. 

The girl beside her snorted. Isa could make out the shimmering of crystals on her deep blue gown. Aurai, probably. 

“Yeah, that was a bit of a dumb bitch move.”

Isa felt a sharp laugh slip from her lips. Most strangers acted awkwardly around her, tiptoeing around her disability. Their world deeply valued strength, and her vision was viewed by the majority to be a weakness. It was refreshing to hear someone talk about it so bluntly. 

Isa pushed away the voice that told her to end the conversation immediately so she didn't get distracted. Giles always told her to be less uptight, that she’d get assassin burnout if she didn’t. The night was long. There was plenty of time for murder. She could afford a conversation while her head stopped throbbing. 

“I’m Isa,” she said, holding out her hand.

The girl shook it firmly.

“Mara. I would’ve been cool with just calling you ‘blind dumbass’ though. And I will accept being called ‘sighted dumbass.’” 

Isa snorted. 

“Definitely cool with that. Who do you serve allegiance to?”

“Ouranos. I’m an Aurai. You?”

Isa felt a small beam of pride that she’d guessed correctly, though it was quickly shot down when her head throbbed extra painfully. 

“Gaea. Dryad.”

Mara sucked in her breath. 

“Ooo. I heard they’re having a bit of a,” she lowered her voice to a stage whisper, “ lovers spat”. 

“That’s a very nice way of putting it,” Isa snarked, remembering a few days ago when she’d woken to the trees bordering their camp being uprooted and flung around like leaves in a windstorm. Gaea was not what one would call emotionally mature. 

“They’ll probably just end it like they always do,” began Isa. 

“With hate fucking and a new titan to grace our world,” finised Mara. 

Isa snorted loudly. “At least they’re predictable.”

“Ow! Shit,” Mara suddenly spat out. 

“What?” Isa asked, hand itching for a dagger in case some wine-drunk nymph was getting frisky. She’d broken more than a few dumbasses’ arms for thinking the tiny blind girl was an open invitation, and she was more than happy to take her fury out on someone else’s dumbass.

“It’s fine,” Mara mumbled. 

Isa heard a loud rustle of her skirts. 

“I am a deeply impatient person and I will smack you with my cane. Hard,” Isa warned, itching at the possibility of popping an asshole’s shoulder out of place. So much of her fighting was done with daggers and weapons, which she liked, but her true love was hand-to-hand. Nothing got rid of stress like a good grappling match.

Even if all her training partners complained she was “too aggressive”. 

It wasn’t a cuddling sesh. Pussy ass bitches.

Mara sighed, her voice lowered in a barely-audible whisper.

“Ok fine. But only because you’re being so fucking loud you will totally blow my cover. Know that I will literally kill you if you let this slip, dryad.” 

Isa raised her eyebrows. Like this aurai could do anything to her before she was on her back with Isa’s cane at her throat. She seemed cool, but she came here for murder, not friends. 

Giles would totally yell at her about work life balance for thinking that. 

“Ok, so there’s lowkey a crossbow in my ass.”

Isa’s eyebrows shot higher. 

“Like… all the way up there? How the fuck did you even do that?”

“No dumbass,” Mara hissed, “And keep it down! It’s strapped to my thigh but the end is wedged in my vag.”

Isa snorted. 

“Shh!” Mara growled.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Isa chuckled. 

“So, why did you feel the need to strap a crossbow to your vagina?” 

“To shoot someone, duh! Dumb bitch.”

Isa’s laughter stopped abruptly. Shit. This could not be what she was scared was happening. 

“And who,” she asked, voice deadly quiet, “would that be?”

Mara huffed. 

“So I pissed off this bitch named Aphrodite and she’s big on revenge, so her daddy sent me to assassinate this dude Tantalus. I’m gonna make it quick and hopefully not too bloody. Arrow through the eye and we’re out. No blood. I can’t handle that shit.” 

She shuddered.

“Fucking hell!” Isa groaned. 

Gaea would kill her - very literally - if she didn’t deliver satisfactorily on this mission. Letting her feuding lover’s aurai fuck up her dramatic message with her “no blood” bullshit was Isa’s one-way ticket to the Underworld. 

And to think, she was actually starting to like this bitch. Giles' work-life shit could suck her spiritual balls. 

Isa sighed. She didn’t want to kill her. All she really needed to get was a head start.

“Mara?” she asked

“Yeah?” Mara responded.

“I’m sorry about this. Really.”

Isa yanked Mara forward by the wrist, fluidly using the momentum to fall to the floor, tripping Mara over in the process. Wasting no time after the sacrifice takedown, she hooked her legs around Mara’s. It was a risk to take them both to the ground, but judging by the crossbow wedged up her ass and the reason for her assasination attempt, Isa doubted Mara would pose a struggle grappling. Plus, even though she knew she shouldn’t let her emotions come into play, she didn’t want to hurt the aurai more than she had to.

“The fuck? Get off me!” Mara screeched, thrashing wildly, drawing curious gazes to their corner.

“Like I said,” Isa said as she wrapped her wrist under Mara’s left heel and leaned back, “my apologies.”

Mara’s eyes widened as she felt the growing pain in her knee. 

“What the fuck are you doing!?”

“Can’t have you running after me,” Isa explained, leaning back until she felt a sharp, ripping  _ pop _ . 

There go those ligaments. And probably her meniscus too. Isa was known for pretty nasty leg locks.

Mara screamed as pain shot down her leg. 

“It was your knee or your throat, man,” Isa explained, getting to her feet. 

“Can’t have you killing my murder victim.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely NOT!” Mara shouted, producing the crosshow from under her dress from her slumped position on the floor. 

“FUCK!” screamed Isa when she felt the white-hot pain of the arrow drill through her arm. 

“Yeah well you MAIMED me!” Mara shouted back, but Isa was already sprinting - as much as she could anyway while still trying to use her cane - away.

How the fuck was she going to find Tantalus now? She was totally disoriented. 

Fuck. Well, she didn’t really have another choice.

“TANTALUS!!” Isa screamed, banging her cane against the ground. 

Miraculously, a syrupy voice answered from the balcony above her.

“Ah… yes?” 

Fantastic. Now he just had to stay put, and Mara had to stay maimed.

Isa had just barely taken off toward the voice when a gust of wind strong enough to throw her off balance overtook her. 

Of course this bitch could fly. Leave it to her to forget aurais’ whole thing. Why the fuck didn’t she choke her out? 

Isa shoved her cane between her teeth, aimed herself as best she could at Mara’s blurred form (thank god for her long-ass train), and launched herself up, mercifully grabbing hold of Mara’s massive hoop skirt.

“THIS IS SUCH AN EXPENSIVE DRESS!” Mara screamed when she felt Isa’s weight. 

“WELL WHO THE FUCK WEARS THEIR BEST DRESS TO A MURDER?”Isa screamed back, voice contorted by the cane wedged between her teeth.

“IT’S A PARTY TOO! UNLIKE SOME DRYADS I CAN FUCKING ENJOY MYSELF. LET GO OF ME!”

“I HAVE A GUY TO KILL, YOU BITCH!”

Isa hoisted herself further up the dress, pulling herself to a crouch on the aurai’s back. 

“This was supposed to be A SUBTLE MURDER. I hate blood,” Mara huffed.

“Well I have carnage to cause,” Isa hissed back. 

Isa felt a sudden lurch beneath her. Mara had changed directions.

“He’s running because of you!” said Mara. 

“Me? I’m not the one who’s flying like a drunk murderous hummingbird!”

“Yeah well I would have been walking if someone hadn’t done whatever the fuck you did to my knee!” 

“It’s called a heel hook, dumbass,” Isa muttered.

Beneath them, guests were scattering from the room. They weren’t too panicked - it wasn’t unusual for high profile dinners to end in some sort of weird shit. Tantalus, though, had clearly gotten the memo that this was not his night. Mara was flying at a dangerous speed trying to catch him, panting heavily enough that Isa could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest from her post on her back. This ballroom was so inconveniently large. 

Isa’s breath caught in her throat. Mara definitely wasn’t going to be able to keep this pace for much longer, even if she had impeccable conditioning. And there was no way Isa could catch the guy on foot. 

It was becoming very clear that Isa was probably going to the Underworld shortly - likely followed close behind by Mara.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Isa mumbled, the curses slipping from her lips like vomit.

It was ridiculous for an assassin to have an anxiety disorder, let alone an incapacitating fear of dying, but unfortunately, the inconvenience of her panic had never convinced her brain to let it go.

“No. FUCK no,” Mara yelled from beneath her, startling Isa. 

“Absolutely not. You do NOT get to maime me, hijack my flight, and fuck up my low-key murder just to lose your shit. I can’t get you off of me, so you have to help me kill this bitch, and you can’t do that if you’re in the middle of a panic attack!”

Actually, Isa had assassinated someone mid panic attack. It was pretty slow for the poor guy. 

But Mara’s message nonetheless got through her thick skull. Focus. 

She grabbed her dagger, the weighty, solid metal comforting in her hand.

“I wasn’t having a panic attack,” Isa muttered irritably. 

“Yeah sure, bitch. Just like I’m not currently sobbing from excruciating pain and the very real possibility we’re both about to die horrifically,” Mara spit out between gulping breaths.

“Yeah, we’re super fucked. I blame you.”

The words had barely slipped out when Isa felt the thick, tell-tale heat of fresh blood and Mara let out a high-pitched scream. They toppled to the floor.

The two had the same thought in perfect unison. 

_ Well, fuck. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is slightly late. Sorry, but in my defense, I'm a lazy piece of shit


End file.
